


You Know What They Say About Assumptions

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: BDSM, Chains, Disability, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Flogging, M/M, Physical Disability, Rope Bondage, Suspension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 18:26:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13172667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: Another from the pile of disability-and-kink fics I found lying around that I wrote four years ago. Bondage and impact play and James being slightly cheeky.CW: There is an OC being an idiot about disability and making assumptions, though it's resolved in a satisfying way.





	You Know What They Say About Assumptions

“Excuse me,” a no-nonsense commanding voice interrupted as Bond was unpacking Q’s toybag. Q pushed his gloved hands against the tires and turned his chair around, his expression politely inquiring as he looked up at her. Dungeon monitor, small but clearly used to being underestimated, standing tall in her bright yellow vest. He probably would’ve responded well to her except that her gaze was clearly intended to lock him out, fixed on Bond and completely ignoring Q despite his closer position in between the two of them. “I just wanted to check in and see what you’re planning for your scene.”

The question was directed at Bond, whom Q couldn’t see, but he could hear the surprise in Bond’s voice as he responded, coming into Q’s line of site a moment later to stand next to the woman, putting them in a conversational triangle despite her unwillingness to take the hint with her body still aligned entirely towards Bond. “Sorry, why? Not to be rude, but... I don’t think we had a plan yet. We’ve played here before and never been asked in advance.”

“I’d just prefer to know what you're going to try while I’m DMing,” she replied, as Q raised an eyebrow up at her and got a pretty clear guess at her concerns before she voiced them. “I don’t want to intrude, but I’m a little concerned about whether your sub will be safe on our equipment...” She smiled kindly and nodded to the suspension frame where Bond had been unpacking. “Liability and all that.”

Now, Bond looked like he might well lose it laughing, but only because Q knew his tells so well. Instead, he fixed the DM with hard eyes and responded evenly. “I don’t have a sub.” He paused a beat, watching her frown, and then lowered his eyes deferentially. “Sir?”

“I think we’ll be just fine,” Q replied thinly as her eyes finally snapped down to his, embarrassed. “But thanks for your concern.”

“Oh, sure, um... just thinking about your safety,” she replied, flustered, and then headed towards another corner of the dungeon. Q sighed and rolled his eyes. Bond, not at all to his surprise, looked hopeful.

“ _ Please _ say we get to fuck with her, Sir.” A light of unholy glee was in his eyes, even as he went obediently back to arranging the contents of the bag next to the suspension frame.

“Maybe a little,” Q warranted, grinning to himself only when Bond wasn’t looking. “Scoot those two frames together at 90 degrees and put a mat under that one. Put your back into it, boy,” he added, and Bond just shot him a look before doing as he was told. Q, for his part, wheeled over to the supplies and started brainstorming. “Those clamps weren’t in there earlier,” he noted, looking up at Bond as he got the second frame in place and hauled a thick black mat down from where it was propped on the wall. “Getting optimistic?”

“Only for you, Sir,” Bond replied cheekily. 

“Yeah, yeah. Brat.” He wasn’t, really--Bond was surprisingly submissive, though the relationship had taken years and quite a lot of trust-building to cultivate. He went down easily, but selectively. Q was his first dominant partner in nearly a decade, and it was a wonder to Q given how much James clearly needed it. He was spirited, but obviously got something he deeply craved out of his submission to Q. They were a partnership in every sense of the word.

"Not tonight," James grinned. "Usual rig?" 

"Please. And I want that chain flogger." Q barely hid a smirk at the flash in James' eyes. He took pain  _ beautifully.  _ Q didn't always give it, but when he did, he refused to hold back.

Along with the flogger, James presented Q with several bundles of rope, and at Q's nod, laid it all in his lap. While James started clipping carabiners on the frame and tying lines to them, Q got himself into a basic, sturdy chest harness. It took only fifteen minutes to get everything in place, working as a team, and then Q was hoisting himself up with a reliable kind of rope pulley system, suspended upright over the mat with his back to the intersection of the two frames. James pushed the chair out of the way and then returned to Q, facing him with his arms neatly behind his back at parade rest. 

"All right. Don't be too satisfied with yourself," Q teased, stroking James' cheek and then lightly slapping it. In the rig, they were face-to-face, and Q could "stand" taller than he had before he lost his legs. He almost wanted to have James kneel and kick him in the chest, just to freak the DM out, but one thing Q always insisted on was that once the scene started, it was about nothing and no one but them. 

"Only a little satisfied, Sir. I notice you didn't ask for the clamps."

"Thought you might." Q let that go, tugging hard on James' upper arms so that he stumbled forward and Q swung a bit from the force, smiling at James' hands that grabbed instinctively at his arse. "Slut," he teased, keeping his hands on James as his submissive's arms returned to their original position and nipping possessively at James' mouth. "Where's your head?" he asked, digging his nails into James' back and relishing the hiss. His partner had to read people for a living, but Q tended towards direct questions, reasoning that if he was going to be a dom he might as well cheat.

"Attached, at the moment." Q snorted and grabbed one upper arm as a brace to casually backhand him. "Steady, Sir," Bond coughed.

"Still up, though," Q pointed out, more matter-of-fact than chiding. Headspace wasn't his boy's responsibility, and this was easy to fix. "Kneel. Hold your elbows."

As James dropped and shifted his arms in a fairly fluid motion, Q pulled a coil of hemp rope from the utility belt he wore to keep safety shears, carabiners, and implements of torture all in easy reach. He tugged a length of rope free from the two ends, but then re-tied the rest to make a neat handle. Reaching up to grip the lines holding him as high as he could reach and thereby steady himself, Q flung the spare rope downward, flicking the knotted ends to intentionally wrap and catch James at his back. Pain wasn't the only way to bring James down, but it was expedient. He gritted his teeth at first, the initial swell of anger visible to Q who knew him so well, and then the tension started to flow away with the slight relaxation of his posture after the first couple dozen strikes. Q gave his arms and chest similar treatment before he ordered James to stand, gripping his hair and kissing him more viciously. "Sweet," he purred, drawing the rope taut and scrubbing it over the skin of James' back. He moaned now, rather than hissing, swaying just slightly into Q. 

"Atta boy." Q's voice was gentle, if a bit teasing, his nails digging hard into James' shoulders. He pulled each hand up to his lips to give the scarred knuckles a kiss before he bound James' wrists together and continued up the forearms. He couldn't do everything here that he might on the floor--this tie was deliberately strong enough to give the feeling of bondage but also possible to slip, safety shears hanging inches from where Bond's hands would eventually be. Still, it didn't seem to matter much for this kind of scene. James still liked rope, and he especially liked the feeling of holding still for Q to indulge in things he couldn't immediately stop. Restraint heightened that feeling without being total, Q knew from observing James over the years.

Once the arm binders were in place, Q guided James' wrists down and then caught his gaze, mercilessly raking a long line down James' chest. "Eyes on me," he murmured, intoxicated by watching the pain flicker and build in James' expression as Q hurt him slowly, ramping sensation until it was almost too much to bear. He dug his nails into pressure points, relishing the high whine James gave him because unlike his enemies, Q had earned noise.  _ Not  _ to bear it stoically was something that was harder for James, but a crucial part of his submission. 

Q dug his knuckles into James' sternum, held him as he watched it become more and more excruciating. He tugged at his hair and took his breath for long seconds, watching closely for warning signs. He only broke eye contact when he absolutely  _ had  _ to bite, savagely attacking James' neck until he finally cried out and then kissing him demandingly. "Fuck," Q groaned, pulling away for half a second and then indulging in another minute of rough kissing before he finally got a handle on himself. "Step back."

James' eyes were glazed as he obeyed, taking a few steps until he was directly under a carabiner he'd placed earlier. Q tugged himself closer, swinging forward to make body contact again and tying himself temporarily to James while he tied James' hands over his head, turning him parallel to the beam, elbows able to bend slightly. He then untied himself, kissed his submissive hard on the mouth, and swung back to grab one of the stabilizing lines hanging from the other frame. With the two lines, one leading back to the frame on each side, he could rig himself in place to swing a flogger freely without the momentum sending him spinning. The chain flogger in his belt he was particularly looking toward to, as its weight was menacing and he hadn't yet tried it on James. The heavy links were more substantial than a more common bead style, and though it took some strength to wield, it was worth it in Q's opinion. 

“Brace yourself,” Q warned once he’d tied himself in place and taken a few steadying breaths. He watched James’ chest rise and fall once before he took the first swing at those terribly defined pecs, watching James flinch as he absorbed the blow and giving him a moment before the next. The chains made a delicious sound, metal impacting James’ skin with a heavy thud, and more importantly James’ eyes were still fixed on his, breathing heavy but not erratic. Though it might be harder to take than impact on the back, Q liked hurting James like this, where he could see his submissive’s face, connect with him through eye contact. 

“Color?” he asked after the first six, and James’ voice was a little syrupy with subspace.

“Green, Sir.”

“ _ Good _ boy,” Q praised, letting the flogger fall a little faster. It was short enough to be possible to control, but still important to watch for bones, keep the hits targeted. Working over the same spots on James’ chest, it wasn’t long before his boy started to shout. Q let him have it for another six, after that, before switching to an underhand grip and aiming at the thigh muscle instead. 

“Oh,  _ fuck _ , Sir,” James groaned, and Q grinned in response.

“You can do this, boy. Stay with me.” The chain on James’ thighs brought really quite delightful sounds loose from his throat, and Q shamelessly fed on them, letting each shout and groan take him higher. When he decided James was done, bright blue eyes looking a little watery, he just dropped the tool to the mats and tugged the knots holding him free with both hands, so that he swung forward with a sudden slam into the boy’s reddened chest.

“You gorgeous little fuck,” Q growled against James’ mouth as James caught him, stumbling back only a step or two. This time he didn’t scold James for grabbing at his arse, but kissed him hungrily, sucking greedily on his boy’s tongue. His thighs gripped James’ waist as his hands scratched and dug into tender muscle, eliciting little near-whimpers that he muffled with his own mouth. “I am going to wreck you tonight,” he promised, pulling back just enough to watch the flash of violent desire in James’ eyes before he claimed another kiss. “Home,” he growled. “Now.”

Yes, they’d have to get him out of the rig, pack up and get the chair into the trunk of James’ one practical car, but when it was time to take his boy in this state, Q didn’t want anyone watching.


End file.
